


Sugar Shack

by Anonymous



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Farmer Sid, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, farm stand au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11504697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sid and the farm were in a bad spot, the worst spot, when Geno showed up on his doorstep with the help wanted ad that Sid put in the paper clutched in his hand.





	Sugar Shack

Sid comes through the door with both arms full of groceries.

The first thing he sees is Geno asleep on his couch and a fat tabby cat curled up on his chest.

It gives him pause for two reasons.

Geno has his own cabin with his own couch to fall asleep on and when Sid left for the grocery store two hours ago he did not leave a cat behind.

He watches them, Geno’s chest rising and falling and the cat moving with it as he puts hamburger rolls in the breadbox and peanut butter in the cabinet.

He moves quietly, keeping his footsteps soft so he doesn’t wake him up.

He’s not mad about the cat. After five years of Geno working for him he should have seen this coming.

A week after arriving Geno had named all the chickens. Russian names that made him laugh when Sid repeated them back, butchering the language and not even trying with the accent.

He was going to give up completely until he noticed how hard Geno was trying to learn English and how frustrated he got when he couldn’t find a word or got one wrong.

Sid joined him in the chicken coop one morning and spent entirely too much time learning how to correctly pronounce each of their names.

“How do you know, though? How do you know that this one is Albina and that one is Vladlena,” he asked, pointing to two nearly identical Orpington chickens. “They look exactly the same.”

“Just know,” he said with a shrug. “Can tell.”

“I think you’re fucking with me.”

Geno had run his tongue along his lower lip and shook his head, his eyes full of light.

That phrase he seemed to understand no problem. 

A few months after that he told Sid about a stray dog that he saw wandering the property.

“Getting cold soon, Sid, worried. Looks skinny.”

“I can call someone. Animal Control or something, maybe they can come pick him up.”

Geno had thrown his hand over the phone in Sid’s office even though Sid hadn’t even begun to reach for it. “No. They come get him, put him in tiny cage. Maybe kill. Doesn’t deserve that.” He lifted his hand slowly, carefully watching Sid’s, like he was making sure he wouldn’t make a dive for it.

Sid never moved.

“I talk to him.”

Sid waved his hand let him try.

Four days later Geno proudly introduced him to Pavel, the one eyed dog that he had managed to befriend.

“Have to take to vet and make sure he okay. Need bath. But cute, no?”

Pavel was skin and bones and matted fur, skittish, but seemed to smile up at Geno each time he bent down to pet his head.

Now weighs in at a healthy sixty five pounds with a silky coat and he rolls over at the feet of anyone who he thinks may pet him down at the stand.

He’s slowed down quite a bit from when Geno first found him but he spends his days following Geno around like he is his own seeing eye person.

It’s sweet, Sid has to admit.

But that’s typical of Geno. Even Gordie has fallen for his charms.

Gordie the goat is still a little shit, too temperamental to be brought down to the pen next to the stand for kids to pet and feed grass to but when he charges at Geno he only comes at him from the side or directly in front, giving him plenty of time to avoid the hit. There aren’t any knocks to the backs of the knees, something Sid has fallen victim to one too many times.

He’s surprised Geno hasn’t shown up with a cat long before this moment.

That a sign for free kittens posted on the side of the road didn’t hit him directly in his soft heart.

Sid doesn’t have a problem with having a cat, just the same way he didn’t have a problem with Geno taking in Pavel, but the cat is in his house and he knows how he feels about that.

It’s not good.

Geno mumbles something in his sleep and tries to roll over.

The cat slides off his chest and hits the floor and the thump it makes is enough to wake Geno.

He rolls off the couch and scoops up the cat, saying something softly in Russian, as he kisses it’s head.

“Didn’t hear you come in," he says when he focuses in on Sid. "It’s late.”

“I got busy and forgot to go to the store. Had to go to the twenty four hour one. Took awhile. How was your day,” he says, casting a significant look at the cat in his arms.

“Was okay. Little slow around noon but picked up. Almost sell out of peach jam and honey.

"That’s good.”

It is. They’re at a funny time of year, too early to really harvest anything so they’re running on canned jams and maple syrup. But that’s not what Sid wants to talk about.

“You have dinner yet? Didn’t see you at all today.”

“Geno-.”

“When was the last time you ate? Not good to go to bed hungry.”

“Geno you can’t distract me from the cat when you’re holding the cat right in front of me.”

“Not just cat, Sid. Solution to your mice problem.”

“It’s not a _problem_. I saw one mouse in one of the barns.”

“Where there’s one there are more. Cat can help. Her name is Luna. Saw her in shelter all sad eyes and have to take. Good hunter, I can feel it.”

“Is a cat necessary. I was going to set out a couple of traps.”

Geno clucks his tongue and Luna stares up at him. “Inhumane, Sid.”

“And letting a cat after them is better?”

“Is nature. She live outside. She’ll love it.”

“Isn’t it cold out there?”

“Only getting warmer. Sleep in the hay. Used to have cats all over back home. All fine.”

“She’s going to have to stay outside. I don’t want her coming back in the house.”

Geno pouts. “So tough. You’ll see. It’ll all work out, you’ll say, _what did I ever do without you?_ ”

He’s already thinking it. Has been since the day he showed up.

He loved, _loves_ , Flower and Kuni, still talks to them regularly and gets Christmas cards from them and sends gifts for the kids for their birthdays but Geno….

Sid and the farm were in a bad spot, the worst spot, when Geno showed up on his doorstep with the help wanted ad that Sid had put in the paper clutched in his hand. 

Flower and Kuni had quit, amicably, the week before. Money was tight and Sid couldn’t pay either of them what they deserved and after years and years of working with his best friends Sid found himself alone and worried about the future knowing that he couldn’t keep this going on his own.

He had looked the lanky guy up and down, a duffle bag over his shoulder and a smile on his face as he held the paper out in front of him.

Sid stared until the guy said _“job”_ in a heavy accent that rolled off his tongue and over his lips and straight to Sid’s core.

It took awhile but Sid eventually learned that Geno ("Evgeni. Geno. Is easier for you,") was from a small steel town in Russia.

There was nothing for him there so he left and came to Canada to find a job so he could send money home to his family. 

Sid had stressed that he couldn't pay him much but that the cabin that he passed on his way to the house was his, rent free, if he took the job. 

Geno had nodded and hiked his bag up onto his shoulder. "Go look?"

"Yeah, of course. I just have to find the key." He held up his hand and went back into the house. He left the door open as an invitation in but  Geno never followed after him.

By the time Sid had found the key in the back of the junk drawer and tucked between two outdated phone books Geno had made his way into the pen where Gordie was head butting his thigh. Geno was laughing.

 

“Like,” Geno called when Sid walked down the path to the pen.

“That’s Gordie. He likes to fight people.”

“Like hockey player?”

"Yeah. You like hockey?"

Geno's smile got even wider. “Love.”

Sid had smiled back and held up the key. 

Geno pet Gordie on the head then followed him down the driveway toward the cabin. 

They didn't need to share a common language to show him the work that needed to be done.

It was easier to show rather than tell him how to make sure he was only picking the strawberries that were the ripest and how not to overfill the pint containers because that cost them money.

How to keep the netting over the blueberries or else the birds would get to them the second they turned blue and to check for eggs in the coop often.

There were sunflowers to be picked in the summer and pumpkins in the fall and in early spring, when the weather was warm in the day but dipped below freezing at night they had to tap the trees for sap.

“Do you know anything about syrup,” he had asked.

Geno recognized the word and smiled then lowered his eyes to Sid’s lips, red and chapped from the long winter, before he had said “sweet.”

Sid had dropped the bucket he was holding-

“So many cute cats, Sid.”

Geno's still talking and the jar of pickles that Sid is holding almost slips from his grasp. Geno is right there though, covering Sid’s hand with both of his own, catching it before it has a chance to break.

He has set Luna down on the counter. 

“Careful, Sid. Maybe go back, get more cats. No mice in whole town.”

“Lets see how she works out first,” Sid says, giving Luna a withering look.

Luna stretches then rolls over on her back.

“Gonna be great,” Geno promises.

 

Geno is a liar and Sid curses the day he showed up on his porch when the power goes out during a severe thunderstorm and Sid finds himself out in the barn with a flashlight looking for Luna.

She can't be out in this.

He calls and calls but it's hard to hear anything over the rolling thunder.

He bumps into something big and warm and drops the flashlight.

“Sid,” Geno is yelling into his face and grabbing him by the arms. “What you doing here?”

Sid shakes him free and grabs the flashlight. Geno pushes it away when he shines it in his face.

“I'm looking for Luna.”

“Me too.”

“In the dark? Where's your flashlight?”

“Couldn't find. Power go out and phones not charged. Couldn't even use that.”

“There's a flashlight under your kitchen sink. I put it there.”

“Lucky I found door. Not going to fight about this. Can't find her.”

“I've been out here for awhile.”

He takes a step forward and trips again, this time on something knee high that whines.

Sid shines his light onto Pavel who is soaking wet and shaking.

“Try to leave him,” Geno says. He’s pressed up against Sid’s back and ducking his head to speak directly into his ear so he can be heard over the wind and rain on the tin roof. “He whined at the door, so pathetic. Had to take. He’s still scared but at least he’s not scared alone.”

Sid starts to laugh. Shoulders shaking and loud enough to rival the thunder and when he shines the light into Geno’s face he’s frowning.

“Not funny, Sid.”

He never wanted any of this but here he is in the middle of the night tripping over his best friend and a one eyed dog looking for a cat.

“It’s not, it’s not,” he says as he wipes at his eyes, “it’s just all so ridiculous.”

Geno lowers the flashlight. “Find cat and get you to bed. You need sleep.”

They find her a half an hour later, cowered in the corner behind some old farm equipment and soaking wet.

Geno holds the flashlight as Sid climbs his way over to her and scoops her up.

“Maybe she ran away when storm started,” Geno says as he pets her with his free hand. His knuckles brush against Sid’s chest. “Come back when she heard us calling.”

“She could have come a little sooner,” Sid complains but tucks her into his jacket and zips it up. “Come on, all of you, back to the house.”

The house has a generator but he only uses it to keep the refrigerators going so the produce doesn’t spoil so Sid starts lighting all of the candles that he can find. 

Geno hovers awkwardly in the kitchen not wanting to drip on anything.

Pavel doesn’t have that problem and does a full body shake that sends water flying.

Sid holds Luna out to Geno to take so he can go grab some towels.

She’s mostly dry by now but it’s at the expense of his shirt which is damp and sticking to his stomach.

He pulls it over his head on the way to the guest bathroom.

Geno coughs behind him.

He grabs a shirt out of the hamper, dirty but it’ll have to do, and comes back with two bath towels. 

Geno hands Luna back then runs one towel over his hair and the other over Pavel.

“You guys can stay here tonight. There’s no point in going back out in the rain. I just have to put sheets on the guest bed. No one has slept there-well. In a while.”

Seven years ago when he came down for his father’s funeral. He hadn’t been able to sleep in the master for months until he was sick of his own moping and moved all his shit upstairs.

“Grab a candle and go in. I’ll get the sheets and be right in.”

It’s not easy to do it one handed, he tried to put Luna down and she dug her claws into him, but eventually he yanks out some sheets and pillow cases off the top shelf.

Geno has stripped down to his boxers by the time he gets back and Sid’s shoulder collides with the door frame.

A couple of springs ago Geno lost a fight to a string of rusty barbed wire while he was clearing brush to plant more sunflowers.

Sid had cleaned the cut high above his knee, wrapped his hand around the the thickest part of his bare thigh and didn’t feel this way.

The light from the jar candle that Geno brought in with him is weak but warm and Sid thinks that if he got close enough he could still see the scar on his leg.

He wants to be close enough.

“You ever put her down?” Geno’s voice jolts him and when he looks up he’s pointing to Luna, still clinging to his shirt.

“She won’t let me.”

“Will un-stick eventually.” He steps forward and accepts the sheets. “Just scared. You save her and now she feels safe.”

“You saved her first.”

“I’m old news. Go to sleep, hero, work tomorrow.” He pats one huge hand against the side of his face, still cool from the rain. “I’ll make up bed.”

 

In the morning the power is on and Luna is sleeping by his hip.

She follows him out of the room and down the stairs.

The guest bed is made and Geno and Pavel are missing.

He looks down at Luna who is twirling around his legs, obviously hungry.

“Let’s find you some food,” he says with a sigh.

 

There’s a length of fencing that needs to be repaired where a limb crashed into it and some of the fields are flooded but overall they came out of it okay.

Luna doesn't leave the house again.

Sid buys humane mouse traps for the barns and makes Geno release them back into the wild four miles down the road.

Sid complains about them coming right back and Geno squeezes his shoulder and thanks him.

 

The farm stand at the end of the mile long driveway is open four days a week.

Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, with extended hours in the summer months.

Today is Thursday.

On a regular off day in late spring they would be picking strawberries, peas, and rhubarb and making sure they had enough produce to open in the morning.

Today they're funneling syrup into thirty two-ounce maple leaf shaped glass bottles for Mrs. Eller's first grade class.

The field trip is a long standing tradition, one that Sid usually looks forward to but there is so much work to be done. It’s never ending.

He caps his tenth bottle and leans back from the table.

“I don’t want to do this.”

Geno looks up from his own bottles. “Okay. I’ll finish.”

“No, I don’t want to do this. The field trip.”

Geno looks at him like he’s crazy. “You love this. Show little kids around, answer their questions. They don’t think you’re boring.”

“I’m not boring,” Sid snaps and Geno laughs enough to dislodge the funnel from the jar. A tablespoon of syrup drains onto the table and all Sid sees is wasted money. “I have a lot to do.”

“Have kids do it. Put them to work. Tell them it’s a game to pick as many strawberries as they can.”

“That has to violate some child labor law.”

Geno rolls his eyes and knocks their knees together. “Too serious, Sid.” His eyes flick up again. “What’s wrong?”

Sid met with his financial adviser last week. The farm hasn’t turned a profit in months. Everything is getting more expensive but Sid can’t raise the prices because then he won’t be able to compete with the grocery stores that have popped up in the area. He keeps hearing stories on the news and reading articles online that people are living more farm to table nowadays but it’s just not translating.

He’s already made a heavy dip into his inheritance trying to keep this place going.

The adviser had left him with a firm handshake, a stack of papers charting out their slow demise, and a _‘it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup plan.’_

He does not have a backup plan.

“It’s nothing,” he lies. He doesn’t want to worry Geno. “Tired. Spring is always the busiest, you know this.”

Geno hums. “Then you go work and I’ll take the kids around.” He raises his voice when Sid starts to protest. “Been watching you do it for years. I can handle it. You go work if you think that will help.”

“Are you sure? The kids can be a lot?”

Geno huffs. “You’re a lot and I deal with you all the time.”

 

The sun is hot on his back and the knees of his jeans are covered in dirt from where he’s been kneeling between the rows of strawberry plants.

It feels good to be working, like every berry he places in the crate is a step closer to fixing his money problems.

It’s not true, of course. If berries were dollars he would be a millionaire.

He sits up on his knees and scans the field from beneath the rim of his hat. Row after row of strawberry plants stretch out in front of him.

He takes his hat off, wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stands to take a break.

The kids are eating lunch on the picnic tables around the stand when Sid shows up.

Pavel is on his back getting belly rubs from a group of kids. He looks like he’s in heaven.

He doesn’t see Geno but Mrs. Eller looks up from the conversation she’s having with two chaperones and waves.

Sid can only nod back, hands full of a crate of strawberries as he nudges open the side door with his foot.

All he wants to do is put the berries in the cooler, grab a water, and get back to work but he can’t because there’s sniffling six year old boy sitting on top of it.

Five other kids are standing around him and Geno is in the middle of it all, applying what looks like the twentieth band aid to his knee.

“What happened,” he asks as he sets the berries down next to the little boy.

“Fell down. Skinned knee,” Geno explains as he smooths out the final band aid. “Not too bad but band aids make everything better.” He grabs a strawberry out of the crate, the biggest one he can find, and hands it over. The kid smiles as Geno helps him down and after finding five more equally impressive strawberries the kids run out.

“Tired, Sid. Kids a lot of work.”

“I told you,” he says as he opens the cooler and puts the crate in.

“Used to want kids, now. Maybe not.”

He grabs a bottle of water for himself and then one for Geno. “If it helps you don’t usually have thirty of them all at once. You were good with that kid.”

“He cry, want to make it feel better.” He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal. “Should probably get back out there. Probably have more questions.” He touches Sid’s side as he passes him, soft and familiar, and it takes Sid a few tries to get the cap off his water.

Sid watches him from inside the stand.

Geno is kneeling down near Pavel and is talking with his hands.

If Sid had to guess he’d say he’s explaining to them why Pavel only has one eye. The kids all nod and pet him a little gentler and when Geno stands he starts talking to one of the parents that has wandered over.

Sid recognizes her as someone he went to high school with. He knew her as Laura Feinstein but can’t remember her married name, not that it matters. She got divorced last year.

She laughs at something Geno has said and suddenly Geno doesn’t look so tired anymore.

Sid drains half the water and abruptly turns away when Geno looks over at him.

He has more work to do.

 

Sid stays outside until he's spending more time batting away mosquitoes than being productive.

He is hot, sweaty, and tired. He wants a shower and to fall into bed. 

Pavel is on his front porch, stretched out and twitching like he's dreaming.

Geno is inside. He's turned Sid’s kitchen upside down and inside out.

There are pots and pans covering the counters.

The flour and sugar containers have taken a big hit and something smells like it might have spilled over in the oven and burned.

Geno is leaning over against the counter reading something on his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Baking, Geno answers absentmindedly. “Your kitchen is bigger.”

Sid toes off his shoes and takes off his hat. His hair is sweaty and Geno looks up to watch him run his hand through it.

He makes a face and Sid shrugs. 

“Why are you baking so much?”

He pokes at one of the loaves and Geno slaps his hand.

“Gross, Sid. Wash up first.”

“Why are you baking so much?" he repeats. 

“Have to make recipe perfect. Can't have you sell bad things.”

Sid comes to a dead stop halfway to the sink, frozen.

“You think we're going to sell these? I already have a place to get baked goods.”

“Not anymore,” Geno says as he scrapes the rest of the batter into a tin with a spatula. “Call Mrs. Hendricks today. Cancel orders.”

Sid grabs the edge of the counter for support.

They've had an agreement for years. His father had one with her for decades. Sid doesn't remember a time Mrs. Hendricks didn't make baked goods for his family to sell at the stand.

“You did what?”

“I look at the books. You don't charge her enough for the fruit and the eggs she uses and she takes too much of the profit when you sell them. Terrible partnership.”

“Geno.”

“She'll be fine. She's been in business for 100 years.”

Sid rolls his eyes at the exaggeration but it can't be too far off. She's been claiming that she's only 70 since Sid has been born.

“You know why she's been in business so long? Because she don't care.”

Sid opens his mouth to defend because Mrs. Hendricks is the sweetest person Sid has ever met. She knit a blanket for him when he was a baby that he still has.

“She care about people, but she doesn't care about business. Nothing personal. She take advantage of you and you too polite to stop it. Canadian,” he scoffs. “Too nice.” He points to himself and says “Russian. Get things done. Cut out middle man.”

“I don't have the money to pay someone to bake for only us.”

Geno shuts the oven door and sets the timer. “Good thing I learn then.”

Sid shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don't have the money to pay you to bake for us.”

“You think I do this for money?” Geno says, serious despite the streak of flour stretching all the way across his black shirt. “This is more than a paycheck for a long time.”

Geno turns back to the bowls on the counter and Sid doesn't know what to do except climb the stairs to his room.

Sid gets his shower but the bed needs to wait because he comes down stairs immediately after, hair still wet and in sweatpants to help Geno taste test five different blueberry lemon pound cakes.

The fifth version is the best and when Sid tells him this Geno nods and cuts him another slice.

“Didn’t know how bad it was,” he says softly as he slides the plate across the table. “Come in and look for you, want to tell you about the kids, see all the paperwork on your desk instead.”

“It’s been bad since before you got here. I’ve managed.”

“Don’t have to manage alone.”

“I didn't want to worry you. I don't know what you'll do if this place goes under.”

In the beginning he thought Geno would just go home, back to Russia.

He misses it, Sid knows this. He used to Skype his parents from Sid’s laptop in his office before he could afford one of his own.

The conversations were all in Russian so it didn't matter if Sid eavesdropped or not but as soon as Geno’s voice started coming out a little broken and he heard sniffling he busied himself with other work and was perfectly content to ignore the redness on Geno's face when he finally came out of the office, nodded in thanks, and hurried out the door.

Until one afternoon when Geno stood there with his hands at his sides and tears on his face looking at Sid.

Sid held his arms out towards him and Geno collapsed into him.

Sid let him cry until there was nothing left.

“I could lose everything, Sid says, "I could have to sell everything.”

He has visions of living in a tiny little apartment. No grass or flowers or maple trees.

He could take Luna and Geno could take Pavel but what the fuck were they going to do with Gordie?

Tears prick his eyes but he blinks them away.

“I think maybe you should start to look for another job.”

“What?” The word is sharp and loud and Sid doesn't look away from his plate.

“I want you to be prepared.”

“You firing me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what? Get new job,” he scoffs, “don't want new job.”

“You might not have a choice and I want to make sure you're okay.”

“I'm okay here. Maybe this will work.”

“You are not going to save this place with a couple of loaves of pound cake.”

“You don't know. You don't even want to try.”

This is going to be a fight. Sid's realizes that he's been itching for one since this afternoon.

“All I've been doing is trying.”

“Here for five years, Sid. Same thing the whole time.”

“Five years,” Sid mocks, “so what? This has been my whole life. My dad-.”

“Your dad not here, Sid.”

Anger flares up, quick and hot.

 _“_ I know he's not here,” Sid says, low and dangerous. “I wouldn't be having this problem if he was. He was able to keep this place running for years and I fuck it up.”

“You're a different person, have to try different things. I give up lots to come here.”

“What does that have to do- I was not the reason you had to leave Russia.”

“You just reason I stay,” he fires back and Sid doesn't know what to do with that. “You don't know what you're going to do? Figure it out. _We’ll_ figure it out. Not everything about you alone.” He stands up and Sid slides his chair back.

“Stop, please. I’m sorry, just….fuck.”

The sour look on Geno’s face smooths into something closer to neutrality but that’s still not good enough.

Everyone leaves him. One way or the other he ends up alone and he can’t watch Geno walk out the door.

“I don’t want you to leave me. Fuck,” he says around a shuddering sigh and then Geno's there with his arms around him and his chin on the top of his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he admits.

Geno makes a soothing sound and stays with him until he calms down and then some.

 

He sleeps in the next morning but not on purpose.

His alarm doesn’t go off and Luna wakes him up at 9:45 screaming to be fed.

 

There are a few cars in the parking lot when Sid finally gets to the stand and he hears Geno laughing before he even gets inside.

There’s an older couple at the register with a bag full of greens.

They say their goodbyes just as Sid slips behind the counter and into the backroom to find some busy work.

He recounts the inventory even though Geno already checked off on it and moves things around in the freezer until Geno finally comes to check on him.

Sid’s still elbow deep in the chest freezer when Geno leans against it.

“My alarm didn’t go off.”

“I know. Shut it off last night. You needed sleep.”

Geno had followed him up the stairs last night and for one wild moment Sid actually thought he was going to follow him right into bed.

But he only grabbed a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser and turned down the sheets, ignoring Sid’s protests that he could do all of this himself.

Sid fell asleep right away. He must have shut it off then.

“Are we okay,” Sid asks after a moment, eyes still trained on the bottom of the freezer.

Geno grabs his arm and Sid finally faces him. His thumb moves back and forth against the knob of his wrist.

“Course we’re okay. You think one fight enough to scare me off?”

“It was a pretty big fight.”

“About big thing. Important. I’m not looking for another job.”

Sid sighs. “I guess I didn’t really expect you to.”

Geno smiles. “Good.”

 

Geno's baked goods start to sell. Slowly.

“Maybe not save the farm over night but things take time,” Geno says around a huge, hopeful smile and Sid can only smile back.

Mrs. Hendricks stops in and with her arms full of cakes she asks Sid if Geno could come and work for her.

Sid starts to stutter out a response and Mrs. Hendricks pats his arm and says “I know you belong to each other, dear,” and he can't even begin to form a response to that.

Laura comes back too.

Sid learns that her son's name is Trevor and he stands patiently next to her eating from a pint container of blueberries as she tries to get Geno to reveal his recipe for cinnamon rolls.

She comes back a lot.

Sid feels like every time he comes into the stand she’s there, laughing and smiling and tucking her hair behind her ear.

Geno is an easy person to fall for.

Sid would imagine.

He's funny and sweet and outgoing.

He picks the sweetest looking berries to give away as samples to little kids and shortens his strides so that Pavel can keep up to him.

Geno smiles back at her every time.

 

He is eating watermelon on the front porch, Luna curled up on the chair next to him, when Geno calls it quits for the evening.

His cap is backwards on his head, showing off sun pinked cheeks and a stripe down his nose.

Pavel is trailing after him, tail low but still wagging against the dusty driveway.

He takes a long drink from the bowl of water at the bottom of the steps then lays down in the cool grass as Geno takes the three steps up the porch in one go.

“Raspberries started to come in,” he says as he lifts Luna off the chair and settles her into his lap. He holds his hand out and drops half a dozen berries into Sid’s hand.

“Little late this year,” Sid says.

Geno shrugs. “All come in at once soon. Spend all day down there picking. Have to find some raspberry recipes. Bake what we don't sell.”

Sid hums and holds a slice of watermelon out for him.

Geno surprises by taking a bite out of it instead of taking the whole thing and Sid surprises the both of them by reaching out and pressing his middle and index finger to the right of two parallel scratches on Geno’s inner arm.

He looks a little embarrassed when he says “forgot bushes had prickers. Those better be good. Bleed for them.”

“Do you want some?”

The corner of Geno's lips quirk into a smile. “Already eat a bunch already. Brought home for you.”

Sid gathers them into the middle of his palm and pops them all in his mouth at once.

They are good. Sweet and juicy, bursting across his tongue.

Geno's watching him out of the corner of his eye, hand moving across Luna’s back and Sid thinks _fuck it._

“Are you dating her?”

Geno looks at him full on. “Who?”

Sid rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on his pants. The juice from the one overripe raspberry stains the denim. “Laura.”

“Who is Laura?”

“G, c’mon. Kinda short, blonde. Young. She has a kid. She was one of the chaperones on the field trip.”

Geno looks like he might vaguely be able to place her then shrugs. “You know so much about her, you date her.”

“I don’t want to date her. Plus she’s been in basically everyday flirting with you, not me.”

Geno snorts. “How you know that? Wouldn’t know if someone was flirting with you to save your life.”

“I do to.”

Geno scratches beneath Luna’s chin.

Sid is wildly annoyed by his relaxed posture while he himself is sitting straight up in his chair, body flooded with tension.

“Could be married and have half a dozen little kids running around here if you wanted,” Geno says easily.

“How? No one even flirts with me.”

Geno's hand stills on Luna.

“You think that? Really?”

Sid shrugs.

“Stupid,” Geno mutters as shifts Luna off his lap. He swipes another slice of watermelon as he stands. “Smartest, Sid. Best. But stupidest.”

He pats his thigh as he goes down the stairs and Pavel gets himself to his feet and follows after him.

 

A few hours later Sid cannot fall asleep.

He lies in bed with one hand behind his head and the other across his stomach thinking of what Geno said.

How wrong he was.

He doesn’t have people constantly flirting with him. He would know if someone was. He would be able to recognize that.

People make small talk and chat and ask him how the farm is doing but it’s nothing more than that.

The last time someone explicitly asked him out to dinner was-

Sid had hand delivered Geno first paycheck to him.

After an agonizing internal debate about whether he should just give him it in cash or write him a check he handed the envelope over and hoped he made the right decision.

Geno had looked at the amount written on the check, shook his head, and tried to push it back into Sid’s hands.

“Too much,” he said.

Sid pushed it back. “It’s really, really, not. Trust me. You earned it.”

Geno had looked back down at the check then pointed to Sid.

“Dinner,” he said, then pointed to himself.

It took Sid a moment to figure it out and then he threw his hands up and shook his head.

“No, no, that's yours. You don't need to take me to dinner to, like, thank me or anything.” He pointed to himself and then to Geno. “No.”

Geno had refused to look up from his feet as he mumbled a thank you and Sid had awkwardly said goodnight and headed back to the house.

This is the first time he’s thought about it in five years and now now he can’t stop thinking about it.

How he might have missed his chance all those years ago. 

 

In the middle of October Sid helps Laura and Trevor pick out the best pumpkin for them to carve.

He happily rolls the pumpkin towards the register and Laura thanks Sid then follows after Trevor with her hand in her purse to grab her wallet.

She stands at the counter for a long time before she leans in and says something that has Geno's eyebrows raising. 

He's quiet for a moment before he smiles gently and shakes his head. 

Sid gets distracted by a customer that needs his help and doesn't see anything else. 

 

He's counting the register by the time he and Geno actually get to speak. 

“You were right. Laura asked me out.”

Sid doesn’t look up from the till even though he’s lost count.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe you right, she has been flirting.”

“Told you I know what it looked like.”

Geno laughs quietly and slides onto the stool next to him and rests his elbows on the counter.

The sleeves on his flannel shirt are rolled up so it’s skin to skin where their forearms are pressed together.

"Why didn't you say yes?"

"Can't lead her on. Already like someone else."

Sid crushes the fives he's holding in his hand. "Who?"

Geno smiles, a sad little tilt to it,  and presses the back of his hand against Sid's before he stands and leaves. 

Sid's not sure what to do with that. 

But he knows that it's _something._  

 

They get pre-cut trees delivered from Montreal.

It’s one of the few deals that his father put in place that Geno and the accountant deemed financially stable.

Kris Letang hops out of the truck and immediately starts speaking in rapid fire french even though Sid knows he speaks perfect English.

He thinks it’s funny that Sid can barely keep up.

Geno doesn’t even try, just fist bumps on his way past to start unloading.

Sid tries to help but Kris whips out his phone and shows him pictures of his son and he doesn't let him go until Geno has cleared the back of the truck.

“Douchebag, Tanger,” Geno gripes and they can still hear Kris laughing halfway down the road. Geno jerks his thumb at the truck. “Douche.”

“He only does it because he knows it bothers you. He thinks it's funny. Which it is.”

Geno shoves him and Sid stumbles a bit in the five inches of snow that's fallen the night before. Geno grabs his arm to steady him and frowns when he pokes his finger through the hole in his coat at the elbow.

“Need new one.”

“It's just a small hole, it's fine.”

“Get bigger. Get new one.”

His coat still has a few more seasons in it. It’ll be fine.

“If you get sick…” Geno warns and Sid shrugs him off.

“You’re only worried about me getting sick because that means you’ll have to do more work around here,” he teases and Geno makes a high pitched squawking noise as he throws his arms out towards all the trees.

“More work?”

“You moved a few trees, what’s the big deal?” Geno’s mouth drops open then curves into a slow smile and the next thing Sid knows he’s on his back as Geno shoves snow up his coat, laughing.

It’s not a surprise when Sid opens up his present from Geno on Christmas day and finds a coat.

It is a little surprising that it’s the one he’s been eyeing for months but never pulled the trigger on because he thought it was too expensive. He’d never spend that much on himself.

He decided to spend his money on new skates for Geno, who, had been wearing the same second hand pair since they started working together.

Geno follows the pattern of the laces and looks up from the red and green wrapping paper.

“Help me break them in?”

In the summer the pond on the edge of the property is pathetic.

It’s a mud pit that Sid’s not sure animals even drink out of.

But in the winter is freezes over beautifully and when the blades of Sid’s skates cut into it for the first time each season it’s like heaven.

Geno winces through the pain that brand new skates can bring but gets over it once Sid sneaks the puck past him and through the mounds of snow that they’re using as goal posts.

“Cheating,” Geno says, skating in a wide circle towards the opposite end of the pond with the puck.

“How am I cheating?”

“Don’t know, just know you are.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Geno mumbles something that Sid doesn’t understand, pulls his hat down further of his head and then rushes him.

Geno scores the next three goals and Sid one more after that.

Sid’s laughing when Geno pulls him to a stop by his elbow.

“Don’t say you want to quit because you’re losing.”

“Is tied, not losing and it’s not about that. Want to say thanks.”

Their skates bump against each other as Sid tries to keep his footing.

“For the skates? It’s no problem, Merry Christmas.”

“No, not just that. It’s for everything. Don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t get this job. Wouldn’t be as happy.”

That could be true or not.

He could have gotten a better job, one with more reasonable hours and demands. One that would pay him what he deserves.

But that’s not what Sid thinks that he means.

Not when he’s staring down at him with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth and his gloved hand pressing into his brand new coat.

Geno holds onto him a little tighter when Sid leans up to kiss him.

Geno kisses back immediately. He drops his stick so he can get a gloved hand on the side of Sid's neck. 

"Really," Sid asks when they pull apart. "You really want this?"

"Yes. For a long time. Always waiting. Knew you'd come around. Just needed time."

"You asked me out," Sid says, "when you first got here."

"I know. You said no."

"I didn't mean to. I didn't know. I thought you were trying to thank me or something. I didn't want to take your money."

"Wanted to date you. Take you to dinner."

"I didn't know," Sid says again and Geno dips down and kisses him again. 

"Would it have mattered? Would you have said yes?"

Truthfully, he doesn't know. He might have turned him down, gently, and stressed the importance of keeping things strictly professional.

Geno must see the conflict written all over his face and he pulls his gloves off so he can press warm hands against his face. Sid leans into his palm.

"It's okay. Doesn't matter. You saying yes now?"

"Yes," Sid says, loud and forceful and Geno laughs and pitches forward, resting their foreheads against each other. "Yes," he says quietly. "God. Yes." 

Geno's breath is hot on his face when when he pulls back enough to slide a hand against his jaw and his thumb tugs on Sid's bottom lip. 

"Sweet," he says. 

Sid kisses him again. 


End file.
